


No plan

by withered



Series: Who's been lovin' you good? [39]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce is not that kind of doctor, Bruce is unimpressed, Bucky catches feelings and does not approve, Bucky's libido has betrayed him, M/M, Not Team Captain America Friendly, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Yes I'm talking about his dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 20:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18532873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered
Summary: Bucky thinks he's got everything figured out: He's going to make it up to Tony for getting him off the hook and for bringing him home, and that's all he's going to do.He doesn't count for Little Bucky betraying him though.





	No plan

 

 

Bucky had a plan.

He always did.

It was how he stayed alive, how he did the job he was given, how he learned to look at himself in the mirror every day after.

He needed a plan; an order of execution that could be followed to the latter to ensure maximum results and the desired endgame.

And this – this is not going to plan.

Bruce is judging him, and Bucky doesn’t appreciate it for a second.

He knows it’s fucked up.

That’s not in question.

But in Bucky’s defense, at the time it seemed like a medical emergency. Which, according to Bruce, judgemental stares over his glasses aside, _technically_ had been. If Bucky wasn’t technically a hundred years old and hadn’t already gone through puberty.

He huffs out an annoyed breath.

Bucky didn’t survive getting drafted, sent to war, captured by the enemy, falling off a train and beating the odds to see a whole new millennium to go through random, awkward boners like some thirteen-year-old.

No _fucking_ sir.

“Not without gratuitous consent, Mr. Barnes,” Friday intones with some amusement, and Bruce looks both amused and constipated, the ability to portray both at once is a gift, Bucky would be impressed if he wasn’t so embarrassed.

“Christ, it’s not like I can help it,” he snaps at the doctor, rubbing a hand over his face. “Tony – Tony’s just…he’s Tony!” And despite his tone being bitter and defeated, he takes comfort in Friday’s understanding hum. Of course, if anyone would know what Tony is capable of – what he simply _is_ snark and quip and smirks aside – unerringly kind, unashamedly caring, selfless and self-sacrificing – it would be one of the man’s children.

“Listen, I’m really not professionally equipped for dealing with sexual crises, I’m not that kind of doctor,” Bruce deadpans in a way that sounds like a warning as if Bucky would –

“God no, I’ve always been, you know, I swing all the ways with a bat,” he waves off. “That’s not the issue.”

“Then I’m not understanding.”

Bucky resists the urge to flail because _goddamn it, Barnes, you aren’t actually thirteen again, get a goddamn grip,_ but instead, he goes, “You have seven Ph.Ds, Banner, how could you – _ugh!” which helps his case by exactly negative twenty percent._

Bruce sighs like he’s greatly aggrieved in lieu of any sort of smart retort to the contrary before turning back to the data he’d gathered and sifting through them in an impressive show of feigned interest. There’s nothing in there that they don’t already know, that hadn’t been already confirmed: Thanks to the lack of deep freeze required, and Hydra no longer having the Winter Soldier in their tentacles, Bucky’s hormones were finally leveling out and the results are decidedly Not Good.

Bruce and Tony both had been suspicious that Bucky’s defrost would come with consequences – what with his growing level of sulkiness over several days, mood swings, unwarranted aggression, hiding in what he’d come to accept was his room, and the like. All of which could be explained away by unresolved trauma, and being _in the home of the man who’d tried to kill him_ as Steve was so fond of saying, despite the fact that if it hadn’t been for Tony Bucky would’ve been far worse off and – _I killed his mom, Steve, what the fuck is wrong with you?_

Though they’d kept an eye on him regardless, and apparently it wasn’t for nothing.

Thank god Bucky had found Bruce in the lab and not Tony because Bucky was not prepared for the kind of awkwardness that would come from admitting –

“Wet dreams happen to everyone,” Bruce says in a sigh that is exhausted as he looks, like he didn’t expect to be having this conversation with a certifiable killing machine in a body of thirty-year-old man which _Right back at ya, Doc, I didn’t ask for this either,_ Bucky sulks, trying to rub the heated flush from his cheeks.

 “That’s not – it isn’t – _I know that.”_ He’d been as sexual as a potted plant for _decades_ right until his liberation from Hydra, and that’s when _that_ started, he supposed, but that still wasn’t the point –

“So?”

The point was –

And when the silence lapses, the pieces fall into place in the look on Bruce’s face, he groans. “Oh god, don’t tell me – “

It wasn’t part of the plan, and now there's no denying it. “I think I’m in love with Tony.”

“And you did, right then, when I told you not to -”

“I know it’s fucked up,” Bucky interjects. God, does he know.

After everything he put Tony through, Little Bucky having a thing for the man he left bleeding on the floor of a Siberian bunker was just plain cruel – _for both of them._ That his _dream_ hadn’t even been a result of any amorous activity (not that Bucky was particularly lacking the imagination with those), but had simply been a dream of domesticated bliss does not help matters any.

That’s not even going into detail of the current situation in the Compound: what with both arguments to the Accords living in close quarters once more in preparation for the Titan, and with the efforts of the pro-Accords side doing the heavy lifting to get the Rogues exonerated in the eyes of the international councils, no one was particularly happy with the arrangements.

A Cold War in the Compound had been the most fitting headline Bucky had come across.

But that wasn’t even the worst part – oh, no – see after everything Tony had done for him; getting him off the hook, bringing him back to the United States, giving him a new home, helping him mentally recover from Hydra’s brainwashing and _building him a new arm –_ Bucky had a plan – he was going to – to make it up to Tony.

He was going to keep the Rogues in line, shout Steve down like he deserved to be shouted down, and make sure Tony didn’t regret helping him.

And he did.

But this? Having daydreams of sliding up next to Tony and burrowing into the other man’s neck, and taking in a deep breath of his warm skin and his faded cologne, and _knowing_ the man would only pull him closer, maybe press a kiss against his hair – _That was not part of the plan._

“You’re an idiot,” Bruce deadpans.

And Bucky hangs his head in shame because –

From the way Tony smirks at Barton’s outrage, at the politicians’ snarls, at aliens monologuing on their front lawn; how quickly he quips at their barbs, always has a cutting remark to aim at their throats, how his eyes will glint with something dangerous at every not-so-subtle threat thrown his family’s way.

How Tony, despite being the target of every campaign to ruin him both as a person and as a businessman and creator, and bearing the weight of supposed-allies who don’t appreciate him, on top of the bad guys that keep knocking on the door, Tony never lets anything stop him from being vulnerable.

From showing up at the kids’ schools during career days and showcases, lecturing at universities in his free time, dropping by at hospitals _to hug babies_ when he has insomnia, singing in the kitchen while he cooks, playing with the bots. The way he looks a mixture of fond and soft and _proud_ when Friday does something new, when the kids make good calls, when Rhodey out-snarks him' when Pepper finally takes a break from running his empire;  _when Bucky smiles because he’s happy –_

Bucky had known his plan was destined for the shitter.

He realized it the second he arrived back to the United States, feeling lost and alone, that first day a year ago.

After corresponding with Tony for weeks in light of Bucky’s pending pardon, Bucky was going to come face to face with the man he owed his life to – the one he’d do anything to make it up to, and Tony –

Tony had peered over him from over his sunglasses, eyes bright, expression open and sincere as a smile curled at his mouth as he said, “Welcome home, Sarge.”

And Bucky – Bucky had _known,_ there was never going to be a plan where he didn’t fall in love with Tony.

Looking down at his lap accusingly, Bucky declares, “This is your fault.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE.
> 
>  
> 
> [Click here if you want to find out more about my work](https://everything-withered.tumblr.com/)


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